


a little tension, sure, why the hell knot?

by tryslora



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alpha Derek, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Butt Plugs, Car Sex, Cock Cages, Community: fullmoon_ficlet, Cunnilingus, Established Relationship, Foursome - F/M/M/M, Frottage, Kissing, Knotting, Multi, Pegging, Polyamory, Prostate Massage, Rimming, Schmoop, Semi-Public Sex, Sex Toys, Sex Toys Under Clothing, Sex in Beta Form(s), Shibari, Versatile Derek Hale, Versatile Jackson Whittemore, Versatile Lydia Martin, Versatile Stiles Stilinski
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-10
Updated: 2019-01-10
Packaged: 2019-10-07 23:44:28
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,586
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17375432
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tryslora/pseuds/tryslora
Summary: Work has kept Derek away for six months. Stiles, Lydia, and Jackson have PLANS to welcome him home.





	a little tension, sure, why the hell knot?

**Author's Note:**

> For the prompt TENSION at Fullmoon Ficlet. Rope tension, emotional tension, sexual tension. I couldn't help it. It's 5k of absolutely frantic smut, then 500 words of fluffy schmoopy bits. Have fun.
> 
> There may be typos; if you catch one, please feel free to poke me and let me know.
> 
> If I missed a tag for a kink, please feel free to suggest. This is tagged only for the foursome because they are indeed all involved in this relationship.

Stiles ties the last knot, tucking the ends in as he finishes. He traces his fingers over the rope, a jute that’s been softened but still has enough bite that he can see red blooming in Jackson’s fair skin.

Stiles steps back, glances over at the sofa. “What do you think?” he asks, while motioning for Jackson to do a slow turn.

Jackson moves as directed, his hands held away from his body to better show the rope. It’s twisted across the top of his chest and under his pecs, knotted thickly in the middle. It wraps in diagonal crosses over and around his torso, the rope just barely biting into his skin. It drops down to his crotch, pressing into his groin while leaving his cock and balls hanging free between the two strands of rope that split his ass cheeks neatly, lifting and separating them.

“Bend over,” Lydia says, and Jackson does so. Stiles is pleased that his rope job has enough give for Jackson to move comfortably, while still being tight enough that it’s obvious against his skin.

“Cage,” Lydia says. “Otherwise he’ll be hard all day and leaking, and it’s going to be bad enough that Derek can smell his arousal.” She gestures at Jackson’s cock, already half hard.

“Plug?” Stiles asks, and Lydia smiles sharply.

“Yes,” she says. “For you.”

Oh. Well. Stiles isn’t going to argue that.

He gets out the cage and carefully fits it around Jackson’s cock and balls, locking it as Jackson whines softly. Stiles knees at his feet, looks up worriedly. “You okay?” he asks.

Jackson licks his lips, nods. “Fine. I just—this is going to be a long fucking evening.”

“That’s the point.” Lydia rises from the couch, her heels sharp raps against the floor as she walks over to them. “It’s been six months since Derek’s been home, and he deserves a proper welcome. Stiles, drop your pants, please. Jackson, put yours on.”

“Unfair,” Jackson mutters, but when Lydia flicks her fingers, he grabs his jeans and yanks them up. Stiles watches avidly at the way Jackson winces when the jeans rub against the ropes over his hips, and at the way Jackson has to carefully tuck his caged cock in before pulling up the zipper.

Stiles’s own cock is already thick and halfway to full as he shoves his jeans and underwear down, kicking them away. Lydia points at the couch, and Stiles walks over, spreads his legs, and bends over, using the back of the couch to support himself.

“Jackson?” Lydia calls. “I expect you to watch.”

Stiles hears the click of a cap as Lydia moves into position behind him, then the cold squishy feeling of lube being squeezed into his crack. She circles his rim lightly. “I’ve been thinking,” she murmurs.

“That never bodes well.” Stiles jerks forward, his cock twitching when she swats his ass.

“You love it,” she says.

“Depends,” he retorts. “Is this a you sit on my face until I can’t breathe kind of thinking, or a let’s drive Derek to distraction until he loses control while fucking me kind of thinking?”

She presses the tip of her finger past his rim, fucking it into him slowly. She twists it, angling her hand until she finds his prostate so she can rub against it. His hips jerk, and he fucks into the air, the tip of his cock brushing the back of the couch.

“Oh,” she says slowly. “The latter. Along with making sure you don’t come in your pants, which you have done before. In the car. On the ride home from the airport. So. I will give you one orgasm now, as long as you adhere to these rules.”

“Go on.” Stiles is willing to trade anything she says as long as he gets off. There will be plenty of opportunity to go again later.

“One, we rearrange and you rim Jackson until he’s sopping wet, then work him open. I want him properly prepared in advance. Two, while we are out, you will finger him any time I say, no matter where we are, and you will ensure that Derek knows that he can do the same whenever he wishes. Three, after this, you do not come again until I say so, and that will be after I have had at least two orgasms, preferably more. I expect one from each of you.” She twists deeper, and Stiles grunts, because fuck, that feels good. “Are we agreed?”

“Yes.” Stiles stands with some difficulty, holds his hand out for a second tube of lube. “Jackson, get that pretty ass over here if you want me to eat it out.”

Jackson stands there, his hand on the button of his jeans. “Lydia, you just told me to put my pants on.”

“Yes, and now I am telling you to take them off. Are you telling me that you don’t want Stiles’s tongue up your ass?” Lydia grips Stiles’s hip with her other hand, manhandles him with that and the finger still inside of him until he’s at the end of the couch.

Jackson growls, grumbling as he shoves his jeans back down and kneels on the couch, his knees on the arm and his ass right in Stiles’s face.

“You love it,” Stiles mutters, biting one perfect fucking ass cheek.

“He does.” Lydia pats Jackson’s back. “Now. Open him up.”

Stiles swirls his tongue around Jackson’s rim, tasting soap because Jackson apparently prepared himself beforehand, just in case. “That sure of me?” Stiles murmurs, biting his cheek just to hear Jackson groan.

He just manages to get a rhythm going, with Jackson swaying, moaning softly, when Lydia twists her finger.

“Fuck,” Stiles mutters.

She swats his ass. “Don’t stop. Get him soft and loose, then lube him up properly. He looks so good for us; let’s not waste it.”

The rope tickles Stiles’s cheek, distracts him just enough that he can find focus again. He presses the tip of his tongue against the puckered hole, teasing Jackson until he relaxes enough for Stiles to flick his tongue and almost press in. Jackson whines, swaying back, and Stiles uses his fingers to help spread Jackson enough so he can get his tongue in, just a bit.

There was a time when Stiles swore he’d never do this to anyone. That was before he discovered just how much he loved making Jackson and Derek fall apart. And if he can do it with his tongue? It’s worth it.

Lydia twists her finger again, and Stiles grunts. “You could give me a hand,” Stiles grumbles.

“No.” She leans in, presses a kiss to his shoulder blade. “I love when you come just because I’m fingering you. I love when you can’t help yourself, and you get all shaky, and you go even harder on Jackson, hoping that I’ll go faster.”

It’s an order, even if it’s not phrased as one. Stiles manages to open the lube with shaky fingers, spills it thickly over Jackson’s already wet hole. He presses one finger in quickly, strokes back out so that he can gather more lubrication, soaking Jackson inside and out.

Lydia rewards him by massaging his prostate, milking him until Stiles’s toes curl and his cock spurts thickly. He bows his head, leans against Jackson and kisses whatever skin he can get his mouth on, leaving a thick red mark on his ass.

It heals quickly, but for a moment Jackson wears Stiles’s mark.

“Almost done.” Lydia grabs for the plug she pulled out, slicks it quickly and slides it into Stiles. “There you go, ready for later. You’ll be hard when we meet Derek, which is perfect.”

Jackson lies on the couch, face down, panting softly. “Why does he get to be hard and I get to be caged?” he mutters.

“Because you love being tormented.” Lydia crouches down next to him, frames his face with careful fingers and kisses him slowly. “And because I love you.” She leans in close to whisper something that Stiles can’t hear, but it makes Jackson whine loudly in response. She pats his cheek. “Get dressed, both of you. Let’s go get our husband.”

#

They can’t get to the gate and have to content themselves with staking out a corner of the waiting room in arrivals. It’s late enough that there are only a few other groups, scattered throughout the area. There’s a woman knitting, periodically glancing up at the arrivals board, her expression sour. From her expression, Stiles suspects she’s waiting for the flight out of Detroit that’s two hours late.

The flight from Orlando disembarks, and a crowd floods through arrivals. They greet people fondly—grandparents meeting children, parents finding their returning teens. When the flood abates, only the knitting woman is left.

There are two flights remaining on the marquis. Stiles doesn’t believe that there are only two people coming—those flights will certainly be populated—but no one else is lingering here this late to pick them up.

“Stiles,” Lydia says softly. “Please make certain Jackson will be ready for the ride home.” She tugs her skirt neatly down, but Stiles can see a faint ridge underneath it. He raises his eyebrows, tilts his head in question, and she smiles prettily. “You know that nothing drives Derek more insane than watching us fuck when he can’t touch anyone. I am guaranteeing that your ass receives the perfect pounding.”

“I love you so damned much.” Stiles grips her hair, tugs her close. When she slips her tongue in his mouth, her hand slides over the front of his pants and she cups his erection and squeezes.

“Finger Jackson,” she orders, nipping his lip as she withdraws.

“Do you want to sit in my lap and get yourself off?” he whispers.

Jackson growls, and Stiles turns to him. “Don’t be impatient.” He slides his hand down the back of Jackson’s jeans, finger easing into the slick crack to tease at his hole. “Is this what you want?” It slides in easily to the second knuckle before the position becomes uncomfortable.

Stiles can just barely fuck him in slow strokes without it behind too obvious. “Are you thinking about Lydia fucking you?” he whispers. He has to move his hand so Lydia can settle onto his lap, her soft bottom wriggling back against his cock.

She pulls her jacket over herself like a blanket, leaving room for Stiles to slip his hand under the jacket and tug up her skirt where no one can see. She’s not wearing underwear because of the toy harness, and Stiles can easily reach her slick lips.

“Which one is she wearing?” Jackson’s voice is tight.

Stiles wedges one finger inside of Lydia alongside the thick bulb of the dildo. “Your favorite,” he says. The harness is only there to keep it from falling. The thick bulb fits inside of her, stretching her, while the dildo juts out like a cock. It’s long and thin, letting her peg Jackson roughly without hurting him.

Stiles slowly fucks his finger in and out of Jackson, gently rubs Lydia’s clit with his other finger. Lydia makes a small noise of pleasure, her knees pressing tight together as she rocks back against him.

Jackson leans on his shoulder, gets one hand under the jacket from the other side. His fingers meet Stiles’s, and together they tease Lydia until she stiffens, biting back a muffled cry.

The airport intercom crackles to announce the flight from Detroit.

“Finally,” the woman says, packing her knitting. She glances across the room at them, smiles slightly. Stiles wonders what they look like, with Lydia’s skin flushed from her orgasm, and Jackson’s expression glazed as Stiles continues to slowly fuck his finger into him. “Good luck,” the woman says.

Stiles glances at the board. “He should be here any minute,” he says. “Coming in from Boston, via O’Hare.”

“That’s what I thought two hours ago,” the woman says. Her lips purse like she’s trying to hide a smile. In the distance, there are announcements that Stiles can’t hear, then the door opens and the first few passengers come through, walking briskly. “Enjoy your reunion.”

Lydia slumps back against Stiles, sighing, content. “We definitely will. He’s been on the road for far too long.”

“It’s hard when your husband travels,” the woman commiserates.

Stiles thinks about answering her, trying to see if she’s shocked by the idea that Derek is their husband, not Lydia’s, but it’s more fun to roll Lydia’s clit lightly, feel the way she tries not gasp. She still so very wet and responsive.

“You know what I don’t like about this?” Jackson murmurs. He withdraws his hand slowly, lifts it to his mouth as the woman turns away. He licks Lydia’s juices from his fingertips. “I want to lay Lydia out,” he whispers. “I want to lick her. Bite her nipples. Eat her out until she’s screaming. I want to fuck her with you and Derek.”

Stiles presses a finger into Lydia alongside the dildo, moving at the same speed as he fucks Jackson. “Later. No nudity in the airport.”

Lydia twists in place, and abruptly she’s straddling Stiles, her fake cock rubbing up against his. He tugs her skirt into place so she’s not inadvertently flashing anyone as she kisses him. “How close are you?” she whispers.

“If you want to rub yourself off against me, we’re good,” Stiles tells her.

He holds her gently until the crowd leaves again. They’re alone, and Jackson cocks his head, listening.

“I don’t hear anyone nearby,” Jackson murmurs.

Stiles takes that as his cue to slide his hand out of Jackson. He needs both hands to grip Lydia’s luscious bottom under her skirt and yank her forward against his cock. She cries out, the sound swallowed as Jackson surges up to kiss her.

Jackson manages to undo the top two buttons of Lydia’s blouse, nudges her bra under her nipple so he can roll it roughly. She rocks forward against Stiles, and he presses up, giving her the pressure that she wants.

His finger is still slick from her juices, and he traces around her hole, gently pressing the tip inside.

“Fuck,” she whispers. “Fuck, yes. Jackson, are we alone?”

“Yes.”

Stiles thinks Jackson would say that whether or not it was true, and he really hopes they aren’t going to get arrested for public indecency. Then he can’t bring himself to care when Lydia grips Jackson’s head, pulls him to her chest, and lets out a sharp cry as his mouth closes over her nipple.

“God, yes,” she says. She arches her body, and Stiles manages to get more of his finger inside of her ass, fucking her as she rubs off against his hard cock. She grips Jackson’s head, holding him in place as he sucks first one nipple, then the other.

The intercom crackles, and Lydia cries out, shuddering through an orgasm.

Stiles cradles her close, wraps her jacket around them all as Derek’s flight arrival is announced.

“I love this,” Lydia murmurs, tugging Jackson’s shirt off his shoulder, kissing the place where rope bites into his skin. “I can feel it pressing into you, and you shake every time I touch it. Does it feel good?”

“My skin’s on fire,” Jackson admits. “Feel like I’m floating.”

“We’ll do it again sometime.” Lydia pats his cheek, kisses him gently.

Jackson smiles. “He can smell us all the way across the airport.”

“Of course he can,” Lydia says. “That was the point.”

She tugs her skirt back into place before she shimmies off of Stiles’s lap. She’s just managed to button her blouse and tug her hair free so that it looks artfully tousled rather than just fucked, when the door bangs open.

Most of the people coming off the flight are business men and woman, exhausted and dragging, wearing suits that were probably sharply creased earlier in the day. They move by in a long wave, while Derek stands there by the glass doors, nostrils flared.

He growls, soft and low. Stiles’s dick twitches.

Lydia crooks her finger, and Derek stalks over. He greets her first, sweeping her up and kissing her thoroughly before burying his face in the hollow of her throat.

Jackson slides a hand over the front of Stiles’s pants. “You’re soaked from Lydia,” he murmurs.

“And that’s why Derek is giving me a piggyback ride,” Stiles says, loud enough to be heard. He rises from the chair, holding Lydia’s jacket loosely in front of his crotch in case anyone happens to glance over.

Derek lets Lydia go, freezing as his nostrils flare. He looks at Stiles, carefully moves the jacket aside to see the wet stain, then drops to his knees.

Oh, fuck.

Stiles is all too aware of Jackson standing behind him, fingers digging into his hips, holding him in place. There’s no place to go as Derek leans forward, and Stiles is just about desperate for the attention.

Lydia wraps her fingers in Derek’s hair and yanks him back. “You have waited six months already; you can wait until we get home.”

“There’s a car,” Derek points out, showing teeth as he growls.

“Stiles drove.” She pats his cheek, points at the escalator. “The faster we leave, the faster you get to find out which plug I used on Stiles tonight. Also, Jackson has something to show you. Stiles has been practicing.”

Jackson tugs his collar to the side, baring his throat and a flash of the rope where it goes over his shoulder at the junction near his throat. The rope has enough bite that no matter how quickly Jackson heals, his skin is rubbed red again. Derek gathers him up, pressing his mouth to the soft skin there, nipping at it until Jackson moans.

“Hey,” Stiles says. He taps his mouth. “You can kiss me here. This part’s safe for public consumption.”

“Jealous?” Derek murmurs as he sets Jackson down and wraps his arms around Stiles. The kiss is slow and sensual, as if he could taste Stiles from the inside out. Stiles sways closer, rubs against him, and Derek answers by gripping his ass and squeezing it so tight that Stiles feels the plug move.

“Needy,” Stiles mumbles, his mouth on Derek’s throat. “We need to get home because it’s been six fucking months and I want you to fuck me into the bed like a month ago.”

Derek kisses his lips lightly, then the tip of his nose, and finally his forehead. When he turns and crouches, Stiles puts his arms over Derek’s shoulders and jumps on, letting Derek lift him.

Every step has Stiles’s hard dick rubbing against Derek’s back. It’s a perfect kind of torture.

They have to swing through baggage claim, which is strangely unpopulated for the number of people who got off the flight. Apparently most flew with only carry-on, and right now Stiles wishes that Derek had done the same. But six months means there are two big bags waiting for Jackson to collect them once the carousel starts to run.

When they get to the car, Jackson shoves the bags in the trunk, then climbs into the back seat with Lydia. Stiles is very tempted to nudge Derek, silently ask him to finish what he started, but the car is parked underneath a bright flood light, in full view of the bored security guards watching the lot. Stiles is all for playing with fire, but this would be more like performing on stage.

He contents himself with subtly fondling Derek, finding him already hard and trapped in his jeans. Then he reluctantly pushes him away and climbs in to get the car started.

Jackson has towels over the back seat before Derek manages to get his seat belt on, and by the time Stiles pulls out of the parking space, Lydia is naked, her fake cock sticking out, proudly erect.

“I still have to pay to get out,” Stiles mutters, navigating through the maze of a parking lot.

“We have heavily tinted windows for a reason.” Lydia helps arrange Jackson on the seat so he’s head down in her lap, ass up right behind Derek. “Come on darling,” she murmurs, moving the dildo so Jackson can reach the top of her slit. “Use that lovely tongue of yours and make me come.”

Stiles does his best to ignore the noises coming from the back as he rolls up to the window. He hands his parking ticket and cash through the window and quickly closes it again so the attendant doesn’t hear.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” Lydia chants, gasping between each word.

Derek undoes his seatbelt, twists so he can reach over the seat while he watches. He pinches Jackson’s ass, rubs his hand against the rope to help it dig into his pale skin. “Nice job, Stiles.”

It’s going to be hard to watch this while driving home. So, so hard. Like could drive a pylon into steel with his dick levels of hard.

Road. Watch the road. Listen to the show, and catch glimpses in the rearview mirror.

“The key for the cage is in the glove compartment,” Stiles says, his voice tight.

Derek retrieves it, unlocking the cage and carefully freeing Jackson’s cock. He massage it, and Jackson groans as he thrusts his tongue into Lydia alongside the dildo.

“Like this,” Derek murmurs, sliding two fingers into Jackson’s ass.

Jackson grunts and slowly nudges one finger into Lydia’s ass, and sucks on her clit.

She comes with a scream, and Stiles shifts in his seat, pressing a hand against his cock. “Yes, I’m jealous right now,” Stiles mutters. “I want to be fucked.”

He pushes down on the accelerator, only slowing when Derek touches his shoulder, shakes his head.

Derek drops his hand from Stiles’s shoulder to his crotch, idly massaging his cock through his pants. It’s torture, but at the same time, he’s being touched, and that’s a little easier to bear.

Stiles navigates through a twisting set of turns to get away from the airport. When he hits the highway, Lydia and Jackson have rearranged, and she’s slowly sliding the dildo into him. She has her hands wrapped around the rope harness on his back, using it like reins to control him as she fucks him. Jackson’s head is bowed, his breath coming in sharp pants. Derek is watching avidly, stroking and squeezing Stiles’s cock the entire time.

“Derek, honey,” Lydia says, the words slow and drawn out.

Derek pulls away, and Stiles does his damnedest not to whimper. Or crash the car because he really wants to focus on the scene in the back and Derek is now blocking half the mirror.

Derek leans over the seat, gently circles Lydia’s clit while she fucks Jackson. He has to twist behind Stiles in order to reach, and Stiles can’t be sure, but from Lydia’s gasp he’s pretty sure that Derek is also fucking her ass.

“Oh, fuck, yes, yes.” Lydia starts pumping harder, and Jackson groans, fingers twisting in the towel on the seats. “Fuck. Fuck.” She stiffens, crying out loud enough that it echoes in the confines of the car as she comes.

Jackson’s groan is softer, almost pained as he comes untouched.

“Stiles.” Derek touches his knee, and Stiles presses the brake automatically, just barely stopping at a red light.

“I’m good,” Stiles says, voice rough. They’re almost home, and it takes another few minutes while Derek returns to massaging Stiles’s cock through his jeans, and Lydia and Jackson curl together in the back.

He opens the garage door and drives in. When it closes, Stiles whines softly.

“Not in the car,” Derek says firmly. “And not in the garage. Everyone upstairs. The bags can be left for later.”

#

Stiles strips on his way through the house, almost tripping up the stairs in his attempt to get his jeans off. Derek lifts him up, helps him kick them away, then carries him up the stairs. Stiles clings to him, nuzzles against his throat and nips at the soft hollow.

Derek growls, his eyes lighting up, and oh yeah, that is fucking perfect.

“Just like that,” Stiles whispers. “But you have to wait for them to get here, too.”

Derek drops him on the bed, and Stiles scuttles backwards as he watches Derek strip. Derek takes it slow, gaze locked on Stiles as he pulls off each item of clothes, careful not to rip anything with his claws.

“Oh, you are going to be so glad I picked that plug,” Lydia says as she and Jackson make it to the room. They both climb onto the bed, bracketing Stiles. Lydia teases his nipple, while Jackson sucks a mark into his throat.

Stiles never got a chance to see which plug she picked, but he’s pretty sure he can guess, just from how stretched he feels. It’s a specialty item, designed for wolves and their humans. Because Derek’s wonderful in his human form, but shifted into his beta form, he’s absolutely glorious. He’s not long—too long is uncomfortable, and Stiles would know. He’s thick. Incredibly thick, almost like being fisted, and then there’s the knot.

Because fuck yes, Derek actually has a knot, but only when he’s shifted. Jackson’s jealous of it, so Derek fucks him with it often. Which… isn’t the same thing at all but seems to work for them.

Stiles really doesn’t care as long as he gets his chance, like tonight.

Derek makes a hand motion, and Lydia and Jackson manhandle Stiles until he’s lying face down, his face in Jackson’s crotch while Lydia strokes one hand along his back. It leaves his ass in the air, and Derek carefully tugs the plug free.

Stiles feels so fucking empty, even when Derek slips two fingers inside of him. It’s not enough. “Please,” he whispers.

Lydia threads his fingers into his hair, presses his face against Jackson’s cock, which is somehow stirring to life. “Suck,” she says, so Stiles does.

Jackson’s not quite hard yet, the perfect halfway there state for Stiles to pull into his mouth and gentle suck like a lollipop. It’s soothing to have Jackson in his mouth, tasting the remains of his last orgasm. Stiles moans as Derek slowly starts to press into him, and Jackson grunts, pushing up into Stiles’s mouth.

Fuck yeah.

There’s no way he’s going to make Jackson get off like this. Stiles doesn’t have enough focus, not with Derek fucking him wide open, achingly slowly. Derek’s claws just barely prick Stiles’s skin at his hips, and Derek growls on every thrust.

“Not going to last,” Stiles mutters, jerking back when Lydia pinches him sharply. “What?”

“Move.” She taps his shoulder, and Derek grips his hips, yanking him backwards. It serves to seat Derek even more deeply inside of Stiles, while making enough space for Lydia to straddle Jackson and sink down on his cock. She looks back over her shoulder, a coy smile. “Eat me, please. You’re so good at it.”

She sighs happily as Jackson slowly fucks her, his movements hampered by Stiles being so close. Stiles holds her down as he presses his tongue flat against her puckered ass, licking almost automatically.

It’s hard to pay attention when Derek is growling softly, murmuring things like, “Mine,” and, “You look so good with my marks on your skin.”

“Fuck me harder,” Stiles mumbles. “Jesus fucking Christ, Derek, knot me already.”

He gives up on trying too hard with Lydia when he has to just hold on because Derek’s fucking him so hard. Derek presses him down and Stiles’s cock jerks against the mattress on every stroke. It doesn’t take much before Stiles feels the tension building, his thighs tight and knees pressed into the mattress. He lets out a guttural groan as he comes, the sound answered by Derek’s grunt.

Derek’s slowly rocking into him still, movements restricted as his cock thickens and swells at the base, his knot locking him into Stiles. It took a long time for Stiles to get used to this, the way it’s almost too wide for him to take. The way Derek’s still spilling inside of him, growling softly at the musky scent. The way Jackson’s eyes light up in response, and Lydia cries out, their orgasms triggered by their alpha’s.

It’s perfect now, and exactly what Stiles wants and needs.

Derek relaxes, tipping sideways onto the big bed, pulling Stiles with him and curling around him as they stay locked together. It lets him get his hand in the wet spot on the bed, scooping up Stiles’s semen and painting it on any skin he can reach. It’s only the beginning, Stiles knows; by the time Derek’s knot abates and is able to slip free, they’ll all be covered in each other’s scent, thick enough for human noses to know.

“I missed you,” Derek mutters, his face buried in the nape of Stiles’s neck. “Six months is too long to be gone.”

“You should have thought of that before taking a job that required so much travel.” Lydia’s voice is snippy, but Stiles can hear the hurt under the words. “Because we miss you, too. We need you here, or you could take us with you.”

“You’d never let me leave the hotel room,” Derek says with a soft huff.

“So?” Jackson doesn’t sound like that’s a problem.

Stiles reaches out to tug them both closer, and if he manages to end up with him and Jackson at the bottom of a snuggle pile, that isn’t a bad thing. “We’re here now,” he says quietly. “Let’s just lie here and relax until one of us is ready to get it up again.”

“I’m always ready,” Lydia points out.

“Just because you are blissfully multi-orgasmic does not mean the rest of us don’t need a break,” Stiles says.

Jackson wiggles his fingers. “Even fingers and tongues need a chance to recharge.”

“Actually,” Derek says, and they all go silent. He falters in the sudden quiet. “I have news,” he finally says, his body tense where he curls around Stiles.

Stiles wiggles his ass, enjoying the way Derek twitches, his knot swelling back up again in response. “It can’t be bad news,” he says slowly.

When Derek doesn’t respond right away, Lydia sits up, her hands pressed against Stiles and Jackson to prop herself up. “You are not leaving again yet,” she says sharply, and there is no doubt that it’s an order. “You promised that you would spent at least as much time at home as you do on the road, and it has been six months Derek. Six months!”

“I know,” Derek says quietly. “I did promise.” He reaches for her, and Stiles does his best to make space for her when he and Derek are still joined crotch to ass.

“Just tell us already,” Jackson mumbles in the tone of someone expecting to be disappointed.

“I put in for a different job,” Derek says.

Stiles wants to turn to face him, but he can’t. He watches Jackson instead, as Jackson leverages himself up onto one elbow to look at Derek.

“Starting Monday, I’m the district manager,” Derek says. “I’ll still have to travel, for a week at a time, maybe twice a year, to the national meeting. But that’s it. This was my last long trip.”

Silence.

“He can’t be lying. He has his dick in my ass and he wouldn’t lie while we’re knotted,” Stiles says finally. “Well, actually, yes, we are reclining, so that kind of lying—”

“Shush,” Lydia says, pushing closer to Derek to kiss him behind Stiles’s back. Her voice is thick when she says, “Thank you.”

“Good,” Jackson says.

This time the silence is quieter. Softer, and easier to breathe in. Stiles exhales and pets Jackson’s hair, down to his neck. He toys with the rope harness, still carefully tied.

“You could take it off me,” Jackson mumbles sleepily.

“Soon as Derek’s done with me, I will,” Stiles promises. “Kind of hard to undo the knots right now.”

Jackson snorts. “Can’t undo the knots while knotted. Get it?”

“I really liked my job,” Derek says softly. “And I really liked the way you all greet me when I get home. But I think about you all the time when I’m gone, and I miss you. And there’s nothing better than being here like this. And I want to have this all the time.”

“I think we’d be more than happy to give you that,” Stiles agrees, because right now, he can’t think of anywhere he’d rather be.

“We’ll give you anything you want,” Lydia agrees.

“And anything Lydia says you can have,” Jackson adds.

And yes, that. Because they are equal, but Lydia will always be their queen.

Derek shifts his hips, idly fucking his knot deeper into Stiles while he reaches up to kiss Lydia. “Can I have Jackson later?” he murmurs, and Stiles can hear the smile in his voice.

“I’m going to sit on your face first,” Lydia whispers back, and there’s a soft cheer from Jackson.

Derek huffs, pleased. “That can be arranged.”

But first, rest. Now that the tensions gone, it’ll take time before the knots can be undone. And then they can have the fun of welcoming Derek home all over again, with a side of celebration for his new job.

Stiles’s family is perfect. Every single one of them.


End file.
